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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585683">space cadet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/downpours/pseuds/downpours'>downpours</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>projecting my issues onto klaus hargreeves [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Guilt, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Klaus Hargreeves Character Study, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Morphine, Pre-Canon, actually just straight up drug use, minor character injury, really fucking weird drug similes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:46:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/downpours/pseuds/downpours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus’ head feels like a hot bowl of soup. He has a head-rush like he’s been held upside down for a few minutes and his blood is warm like Grace’s tomato bisque, pooling in his brain like a liquid hug. In the Hargreeves household, physical affection is rare, and this high feels like one long continuous hug on his touch-starved nerves.</p><p>And...<br/>  <i>Would it be so bad if he never let go?</i></p><p>OR, Klaus’ introduction to opioids.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>projecting my issues onto klaus hargreeves [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>space cadet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this on oxy and immediately threw up out the window after finishing it. so like, take this description of doing drugs instead of doing drugs</p><p>song rec: space cadet - the technicolors</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">Klaus realizes why they call druggies “space cadets”. Riding the sweet high of the morphine Grace gave him, he feels a bit like an astronaut: free from gravity, floating aimlessly in the galaxy of his own body. </span> <span class="s2">Like a...<em>Spaceboy</em>. </span> <span class="s1">He cracks himself up.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">A few rooms away, Klaus can hear Vanya play the violin and he swears he can </span> <span class="s2">feel</span> <span class="s1"> each note dance down the canal of his ear. He closes his eyes and loses himself in each strum, nodding softly to the rhythm. It sounds like bliss. He rocks himself around in the infirmary bedsheets in sync. He thinks he looks graceful (he doesn’t).</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His head feels like a hot bowl of soup. Klaus has a head-rush like he’s been held upside down for a few minutes and the blood is warm like Grace’s tomato bisque, pooling in his brain like a liquid hug. In the Hargreeves household, physical affection is rare, and this high feels like one long continuous hug on his touch-starved nerves.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Would it be so bad if he never let go?</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klaus tucks that thought away for later. He licks his lips and giggles softly when he realizes he can’t feel them. <em>Where’d they go? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lost in his travel through space, he doesn’t hear the click of Grace’s heels when she returns.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, good!” She greets brightly. “You’re up! You took quite a tumble during training. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Klaus takes a minute to think of a response. It’s like there’s a layer of jelly on his brain and it takes effort to swim through it long enough to form a thought. </span> <em><span class="s2">Hmm, no,</span></em> <span class="s1"> he thinks, </span> <em><span class="s2">that’s not right.</span></em> <span class="s1"> It’s more like his thoughts are trapped in the jelly and he can’t quite translate them into a full sentence.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m...good. Say, mom, what did you give me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I gave you 0.15 mg/kg of intravenous morphine sulfate for the pain.” Grace recalls robotically. “Are you still in pain?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, it’s starting to wear off.” Klaus lies blatantly. He’s not sure why he did. It was a sentence that he would think about for years to come.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, dear. Sit tight, I’ll fix you right up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">And fix him she does. His head droops as he begins to nod off, pinpoint pupils disappearing under heavy eyelids. Then he jerks himself awake, desperate not to waste the high <strike>and </strike></span> <strike> <span class="s2">terrified</span> </strike> <span class="s1"><strike> to wake up sober.</strike> The cycle of consciousness repeats about twenty times before he hears the door creak again.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Diego visits him first, eyes wide with poorly hidden concern. The first thing he thinks upon seeing his brother in the infirmary is that he looks...<em>different</em>. Happier. More relaxed than he’d seen him in over five years, when he first began his solo specialized training. It was as comforting as it was disarming: the way Klaus smiled gently, without the edges and manic energy of his usual elvish grin. The happiness looked bizarre in contrast to the dark bruises on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s gotten into you? Why aren’t you whining in pain?” is the first thing Diego can think to say. “Luther knocked you out pretty hard during training...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What can I say? I’m a masochist,” The medium drawls, attempting to wriggle his eyebrows but failing when his facial muscles won’t respond.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ew!” Diego groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But also the morphine isn’t so bad.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Diego hums in response. That made more sense. He let the thought drop. Years later, he would think back to this moment, the moment his brother began his face-first plummet into pills and powders and needles. Into 3AM calls from the hospital after yet another overdose (he would eventually remove himself as Klaus’ emergency contact after the seventh call). He would recall this day with regret, wishing he pushed the topic further. Ask Klaus why he looked happy for the first time in years in a hospital bed, or something, anything to stop him from losing his baby brother.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Three weeks after the training incident, Klaus was entirely healed and his pupils were still the size of pinpoints.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>don’t do opioids it’s not worth it fr. if you liked this please comment and i’ll give you a kith</p></blockquote></div></div>
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